Family Matters
by moms5thchild
Summary: Auggie Anderson hasn't been back to Glencoe, Illinois in years. It would take a bomb blast to get him back there. Then his father comes to Washington and lights the fuse.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at a Covert Affairs story. I've only seen a few of the episodes, but it doesn't take long to find out that Auggie Anderson is the glue that holds so much of the series together. I don't own any of the show or Auggie (damn) but it sure is fun to write about him. Thank you, girlwithoutfear, for being a great beta reader.

**Family Matters**

**Chapter One  
**

Auggie Anderson leaned forward at his desk inputting a complicated algorithm into his program. There were too many agents' earwigs dropping off the airwaves around the embassies of the former Soviet block countries. He and his team's diligent research had come up with part of the electronic barrier but they had to break through all this newly created wall of static before somebody, especially a certain female blond somebody, needed to touch base.

"Hey, boss man," Stu's voice jarred Auggie out of his work induced funk. "Don't you have an appointment tonight?"

Auggie's hand immediately went to his watch to check the time; it was 5:45. "Thanks. Stu, call the car service to pick me up out front."

"Where's you 'Annie Walker' cab today?"

"Annie is in Berlin listening to old Stasi tapes and checking for whatever ancient secrets Joan wants to find." Anderson pulled on his Burberry trench coat.

"Auggie," Joan barreled into the tech office, "do you have… August Michael Anderson, where did you get that?"

"What have I got?" He turned toward his boss, "Spinach between my teeth?"

"No," Joan circled him twice before running her hands down the coat's lapels. "That is alpaca. Arthur has been dreaming about having an alpaca Burberry for ages and can't open his wallet far enough to fork over the grand it costs."

"Actually I believe it costs closer to 1500 bucks _and_ it was a gift. I'm only wearing it tonight because I have an important meeting at seven and I have to go now or I'll be late." Auggie placed his laser cane on his desk and pulled out the folding white cane he used outside Langley. "Now, whatever you need, this is the one night I can't get it for you, do it for you, find it for you or make it for you. I'll be in tomorrow bright and early so send me an e-mail and I'll do whatever you need first thing in the morning."

Before anyone could say anything else Auggie fled out the door and headed to the exit where his ride would be.

Turning toward the nervous tech, Joan smiled "Stu, who is Auggie meeting tonight?"

"I wish I knew?"

0o0o0

"Here we are, Mr. Anderson, 37th and O St." The driver peered at Auggie through his rear view mirror. He liked driving Anderson but carefully kept the relationship on a strictly professional level. He'd seen too many of his CIA clients disappear with no explanation so he was not getting close to another one. "Need any help from here?"

"No, I've been here enough times to know where I'm going." Auggie smiled as he exited the car. "See you in the morning." He turned, unfolded his white cane and tapped it twice to lock it tight. Before him was the campus of Georgetown University and his father was waiting for him in the Faculty Club. Auggie pulled in a deep cleansing breath and started the obstacle course called the campus to get to the restaurant. Trust Dad to make sure he had a challenge before the upcoming interrogation commonly known as dinner.

It took Auggie fifteen minutes to get to the Faculty Club, but once there it took less than fifteen seconds for his father to latch onto his arm.

"August, I'm so glad you managed to get here today. That job of yours monopolizes far too much of your time."

"That's what jobs do, Dad," Auggie grimaced, folding his cane. He gently pulled away to rearrange grips so Auggie held on to his father's arm above his elbow instead of the other way around. "So what brings you to D. C. this time?"

His father laughed. "Secret and mysterious things; I was asked to…"

"Doctor Albert Anderson, I've finally found you." A hearty bass voice cut through the dinner time clatter as the sound of heavy footfalls announced the voice's arrival. "Please come join us. I want to have a chance to persuade you to join faculty here as the good Fathers will no doubt be trying to do."

Auggie's head snapped toward his father. "Dad, you're thinking of leaving Notre Dame?"

"We are hoping your father will jump at the bait this time," the overly loud voice broke in again as the heavy hand attached to it pounded him on the back. "Hello, I'm Casper Van Damme, specializing in maritime and international trade law and you must be one of the famous Anderson boys. We've been trying to get your father away from that Midwest law ghetto and closer to the pulse of the world here in Washington." The man grabbed Auggie's right hand and pumped with hard enough force to tear his rotator cuff. "Where are you teaching, my boy?"

"Van Damme," Dr. Anderson cut in, "this is my youngest son, August. He works for the Smithsonian Institution and I don't get him all to myself very often. You know, without the rest of the family taking over."

"Of course not, Anderson, of course not," the heavy hand pounded Auggie's back again. When your father comes here we'll be seeing more of both of you, I expect. Well, Albert, tomorrow you'll be at the Dean's cocktail party and we'll touch base then." The heavy footsteps receded quickly.

"Sorry, son; that man seems to think loud equals interesting."

Auggie wasn't about to let the incident get glossed over by his father. "Hold on, Dad, please explain to me what that was all about?"

"Before we eat? August I get offers like this all the time," he said as he tried to pull Auggie forward. "And giving up tenure is out of the question but I'm being offered a visiting professorship and I might just take this one. Think of the times we could have here, you and I."

"No Dad," Auggie dug in his heels. "You can't just drop this somewhere between soup and dessert. Let's go somewhere we can actually talk about you coming here." He unfurled his cane and turned toward where he knew the exit was, "I know a just the place to talk."

Anderson reached for his son's arm again. "Auggie, this isn't that important."

"It isn't? Come with me, Dad. I know things are bad when you call me Auggie." With that he headed out of the Faculty Club. Auggie just hoped his father was following him. Even if he wasn't sure of his tail Auggie was heading to Los Cuates. He needed a shot of Patrone and he knew where to get it.

A quick but silent cab ride got them to Los Cuates Mexican Restaurant. They could have walked, but Auggie wanted find out what was so secret and mysterious that his father had to talk to him face to face.

"This is a good idea, August," Dr. Anderson smiled as he followed his son into the restaurant. "We'll have no interruptions from nosy, noisy, potential colleagues." His head swiveled to take in the décor. "I'm going to need you to show me around so I don't look like a tourist."

"If I can find the time, Dad, I do have a life, you know; full time job, hobbies, friends.

"Auggie Anderson," the hostess smiled at one of her favourite diners, "where's your pretty blond girlfriend tonight?"

He flashed his thousand watt grin. "Sissy, tonight I have my father visiting from Illinois and I want to show him the best place in all D.C. to have chimichangas."

"Well, I'll just have to get you the best table in the place."

"Yes, and make sure a shot of Patrone comes with my menu," Auggie winked as he took the hostess' arm. "And it might be a good thing if you made that drink a double."

Dr. Anderson followed silently behind his son. He didn't like it when August flirted with the hostess, but waited for them to be seated before letting his displeasure be known. "Must you always act like a wolf on the prowl?"

"So Dad," Auggie ignored his father's complaint and then smiled after he'd downed his tequila in one gulp, "when did Georgetown University suddenly become the place to spread your special brand of legal knowledge."

"Georgetown is simply one of many colleges that have offered me a visiting professorship."

Auggie leaned forward, "you hate Jesuits. How many stories did I hear throughout my childhood about the Pope's Black Army? Two, ten, one hundred… you wouldn't send any of us to any school with the taint of Jesuits in the faculty."

"I believe I've mellowed, August," Albert Anderson put on his casual look as he scanned the menu before him and then he realized that this maneuver wouldn't mean a thing to August; his youngest son was blind and therefore immune to his controlling tactics. "I have found I can do anything when the motivation is great enough."

"And what is your motivation for this about face?"

"Why, you; of course."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for the hits and story alerts and reviews. I am touched and amazed that so many people are reading my story. I hope that as I continue to deliver a piece you all enjoy reading. Thank you to my beta reader, girlwithoutfear, for her great punctuation and spelling skills. I couldn't do this without your care and input, sweetie, you are the best.

**Family Matters**

Chapter Two

He couldn't get away for Christmas; for whatever reason the world had a tendency to teeter on the brink of annihilation when so many members of the human race spoke of peace on Earth, good will toward men. Auggie did his bit for the human race by taking over other agent's shifts at Christmas to let the married men have time with their families; it was the least he could do if the world came to an end. This year, however, he almost wished the world had come to an end. This year, for the first time in five years, Auggie Anderson was going to Chicago.

If getting there is half the fun, maybe it was time to start pounding his head against the bulkhead of the plane. Somewhere in coach someone was torturing babies; that was the only explanation for the noise coming from the back. And his seat mate, his three hundred pounds of sweating, swearing, alcohol-swilling waste-of-skin seatmate, started arguing with the flight attendants before the doors were locked and didn't stop until he fell into an alcohol-induced coma. Auggie was beginning to wonder if paying extra for a first class seat from Dulles to O'Hare was really worth it.

0o0o0

"Will someone answer the door?" Ephraim Anderson called up from his basement office when he heard the doorbell ring a third time.

"I'm not s'posed to open the door by myself," his four year old son, Ethan, called from the TV room.

Ephraim trudged up the stairs. "Okay, I'll get it, it's not like I was doing anything important like balancing the check book." Not bothering to look through the peep hole, he just opened the door. "Whatever you're selling, we got it."

"That's one hell of a greeting, Butch."

Ephraim Anderson did a double take when he heard his old nickname and finally registered who the wet, snow covered occupant of his front step was. "Auggie? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Freezing my ass off, aren't you going to invite me in?"

Ephraim pulled his little brother out of the cold and into a large, enveloping hug while kicking the front door shut with his foot.

He leaned back and looked his baby brother up and down. "Auggie, what finally got your ass out of Washington?"

"Dad."

Ephraim rolled his eyes as he led Auggie into the kitchen, "What has the old busybody done now?"

"He's decided to come to Washington and straighten out my life. Now what did I do to deserve that?"

Ephraim placed Auggie's hand on the top of one of the kitchen chairs and then started a pot of coffee.

"You were born to Albert and Barbara Anderson and you joined the army. Bad, bad Auggie joined the military industrial complex."

"Hardy-har-har Butch, how does that explain why Cy was in the navy or Greg in the Coast Guard and didn't get the grief that I got."

Another voice cut in, "That's because they weren't the baby of the family."

Auggie grinned so broadly it almost split his face, "Joanne, good to see you. Why haven't you left Butch for something better yet?"

Joanne Anderson, his pretty, round-faced sister-in-law, came over and kissed the top of Auggie's head as she slipped her youngest child, Daniel Albert Anderson, into his arms. "If you brother didn't make such pretty babies I'd leave in a second." She smiled as she watched Auggie arrange her little boy against his shoulder. "So Bert decided to visit you in Washington? Oh, Lord, that man is trying to arrange the life of all his sons."

Auggie frowned. "What's going on and why have I been kept in the dark, if you'll pardon the expression."

Ephraim joined the couple at the table, "Dad's been an even bigger pain than usual. He's trying to get Cyril to quit the public defenders' office and join some downtown law firm. He says Cy can't support a family on what he makes... of course he wants Cindy to quit her accountant job and become a stay at home wife and mother."

"And we know that's not going to happen," Joanne added as she poured the coffee. "You still take this black?"

"Yeah, thanks. That still leaves Greg and Tom."

"Greg is teaching at the University of Chicago, a den of pinko idealists full of subversive beliefs. I think Dad is afraid another Joe McCarthy is about to swoop down and jail all the Commies in Illinois. Tom, of course, is every parent's wet dream."

"My son, the doctor," the three adults chimed almost in harmony before they all laughed.

"Except that Tommy still hasn't married Hannah and is 'gasp' living in sin." Joanne stage whispered.

"And don't forget me, Ephraim Anderson, one of Chicago's finest working in computer crimes. I don't even leave the office most days and Dad still manages to make it sound like I'll be shot by some dangerous white collar criminal because I ferret out embezzling and insider trading on confiscated hard drives. Sending those rough, tough accountants to 'club fed' prisons is dangerous work; I might get a paper cut. Dear old Dad is not happy with any of us." Butch looked at his brother, Auggie, as he rocked two month old Danny to sleep. "Kid, you look good holding a baby. You haven't even met our oldest, Ethan, yet and he's long past being a baby."

"My job keeps me busy," Auggie leaned into his shoulder to smell the sweet scent of clean baby. "Where is your other boy?"

"Probably watching TV or playing with the computer." Joanne groused, "He's pure Anderson, too smart for his own good. Wait until I tell him he gets to share his room with Uncle Auggie."

"Hey, I can afford a hotel room; you don't have to toss your kid out of his bed."

"Oh no, you aren't leaving here before I call everyone and get them here to see you aren't a figment of our imaginations. I bet there are some Andersons who have forgotten what you look like."

"I look like the milkman," Auggie laughed. "That's what Grampa always told me. There haven't been milkmen in Glencoe in over fifty years but Mom managed to find one just to make sure I was skinny enough to get beat up by all my brothers."

"That's not true; we would have beaten you up anyway. What good is it being older if you can't torture the younger sibs? And don't argue with my wife, kid, she'll get what she wants in the end. So relax and accept you're beaten; as the Borg say resistance is futile."

Auggie knew when to quit, "I always knew you were an alien, Joanne. I just didn't know you were here to conquer the world."

0o0o0

Auggie woke up the next morning because small fingers were touching his eye lids. He kept them shut and listened.

"He don't look weird."

"Shut up, Bobby. Mommy says we have to let him sleep. He traveled all the way from Washinkton all alone."

"Frankie," the stage whisper was almost louder than the other young voices, "I don't remember an Uncle Auggie."

"That's 'cause he never visits. I don't think he likes us."

"He took my big boy bed last night," that voice had to be Ethan, "I ended up in Danny's crib and Danny was in the cradle in Mommy and Daddy's room."

"Don't touch his eyes," a new voice piped in. "He got blinded and I bet his eyes are glass or something now. They got sploded clear out of his head."

The little fingers pulled his eye lid up, "they look real, Andy. I bet that's just a story Uncle Greg told you."

Auggie opened his eyes and sat up in the bed. The sound of scampering feet, shrieks and giggles told him all the nephews had run out of the room.

"Boys, what did I tell you about waking your Uncle Auggie," the voice of Joanne came in from the hall way. "Auggie, are you decent?"

"I'm always decent, Jo, and I have pajamas on too."

"Cy and Greg are here and I don't think they want to see you in your jammies so get dressed. The coffee is still hot and there are fresh bagels so hurry up before they're all gone."

By the time Auggie made it down the stairs only Tom Anderson hadn't arrived. It wasn't likely he was going to show up.

"Well, if it isn't an Anderson brother's reunion, now that the lost sheep has returned." Auggie barely had time to breathe before he was engulfed by his older brothers. Hugs, noogies, slaps on the back and ass told him he was back in the arms of his childhood tormentors again. The fact they were treating him the same way they always treated him made Auggie Anderson feel truly at home.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

I have to apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out. I just wasn't satisfied with the first draft, the second draft or the third draft. When I finally sent the fourth draft to my faithful beta she wore her blue pencil down to a nubbin. Well, she finally approved of this piece and I send it off to you to read. I only hope that it meets your approval.

I thank all the people who have set story alerts for this fic. I am overwhelmed by the responsive it is getting. Thank you again.

**Family Matters**

_Chapter Three_

Tom Anderson ground his teeth as he rushed home for some unnamed crisis. He'd been so damn busy today, as acting head of pediatrics at St. Joseph's Hospital while Doctor Steinman was sunning himself with wife number four on some pink beach in Bermuda. Tom had to deal with all the new bike broken bones, turkey induced food poisoning and too much candy diarrhea. It was just an average Christmas holiday in peds.

His twin sons kept a steady stream of insults bubbling behind him as he drove home.

Paul seemed to whine continually. "I am not a bed wetter; nobody I know would believe I'm a bed wetter."

Pete's sarcastic attitude was just as grating. "Just who would have tweeted such a nasty thing? You drool incessantly… still leaves you sleeping in a puddle. That's why you're a second string goalie instead of a first string right winger, all that drool rots the ice."

Tom didn't need to hear his twins sniping at each other and if this kept up the gloves would be off and they'd start throwing punches. And then they would probably break the new iPhones they got for Christmas. "Boys, you're fourteen, not four. If this keeps up you'll be in bed instead of watching the Black Hawks game tonight."

Pete just rolled his eyes, "They're playing the Toronto Make Me Laughs tonight, it's kind of sad to watch a slaughter like that."

"Maybe the Leafs will win," Tom winked, "it is the season of miracles."

"Yeah, sure… and there really is a Santa Claus too." Paul looked up from his iPhone when his father pulled into the driveway, "Hey, Uncle Butch's truck is here."

Oh Lord, the last thing Tom needed was Ephraim and his brood here. He just wanted a nice, relaxing night watching the mayhem on ice rather than have mayhem right there in his home.

0o0o0

"Do my name next, do mine," Ethan's ear piercing shriek just about hurt everyone's teeth.

"Sure, I'll do your name, come here," Auggie pulled his four year old nephew to his right side while five year old Adam watched in wide eyed wonder on his left. He placed a stiff piece of paper in the small Braille slate he kept when he needed to make a quick note. "Do you want me to make it Ethan or your secret super hero name?"

"Uncle Auggie, I'm just Ethan."

"Okay, Just Ethan, I'll write that right now." Auggie took the wooden stylus in his hand and quickly punched the words 'Just Ethan' on the stiff paper. He slipped the paper out, turned it over and ran his fingers over the bumps. "There you go, Just Ethan."

"Why don't you and Adam go downstairs and play with his Christmas toys," Tom's partner, Dr. Hannah Klein, said as she pushed the boys out of the kitchen. "When Pete gets back I bet he'll show you how to play Guitar Hero." She stage whispered to Auggie, "Because I know Paul would never lower himself to play with the little boys."

Joanne Anderson rose from her seat and glanced out the kitchen window. "Sweetie, looks like Tom and the twins are finally here." She checked Auggie for his reaction to the impending meeting. "Hannah maybe we should go play Guitar Heroes too."

Hannah just shook her head. She was glad Butch was at work instead of adding more fuel to this impending fire. She had been part of the Anderson clan for the past seven years in every way except marriage and she knew that there were always explosions whenever these brothers got together. Actually, she had been the source of one of those explosions so Hannah figured she should be able to take the bust as well as the boom.

Auggie turned toward Hannah and winked, "it might not be such a bad idea. Tom and I don't exactly see eye to eye, if you get my drift."

"Bad puns, the favourite armor of the Anderson family," Joanne picked up the car seat that held the sleeping Danny and turned to Hannah. "Come on, Doctor Klein, let's get while the getting is good."

Auggie sat sniper still as he let the sounds of the house tell him what was happening. The women descending to happy noise of Christmas in the basement that played counter point to the routine of coming in from a cold Chicago night. It was the calm before the storm. The back door opened and closed. Back packs and briefcase hit the floor of the mudroom. Teenage boys stampeded down the stairs, while a lighter step came into the kitchen where Auggie sat. Tom walked straight to the coffee maker on the counter, not even noticing his youngest brother was there.

"You'd have never survived in this man's army with those observation skills," Auggie said with a smile when a coffee mug slammed onto the counter and his brother swore. Auggie knew the shit was about to hit the fan.

Tom whipped around, "what the Hell are you doing here?"

"And a happy new year to you too," Auggie shot back. "I had hoped you would be glad to see me, since last time we met I was still in a VA hospital. Since you're the only doctor in the family I thought you might like to see the finished product. How did I turn out?" He stopped and sighed, "Tommy, can't we finally stop acting like we can't stand to be in the same room?"

Tom refilled his mug and came to the table. "I thought it was you who couldn't stand being with me."

Auggie reached over to find the chair next to him and pushed it out for his brother to sit down, "maybe once, but not anymore." He waited and then smiled when he heard Tom sit down. "I like Hannah, and Adam is a good kid so why don't we start over and see if we have anything in common. So, how has Dad been bothering you lately?"

Tom stomped away from his brother. "Well, it looks like the truth is out. You didn't come here to touch base or visit or mend bridges; you came here because Dad is bothering _you_ now. You're still the spoiled little shit you always were."

"I might say it takes one to know one. You were always pulling the 'I'm the oldest' card whenever you didn't get your own way." Auggie stood and faced Tom. "Well, you're Dad's favourite, his son the doctor, the one who saves lives. It's not like being a cop or a public defender or even a soldier saved any lives."

"It's not the same thing. I don't care if the patient is a good guy or a bad guy; I treat anyone who is in front of me."

Auggie folded his arms over his chest, "yeah, you get a lot of felons and terrorists being in pediatrics. It's almost as dangerous as being a dermatologist in the great scheme of things."

"Yeah," Tom turned and pushed Auggie to the wall, "like the acquisitions department of the Smithsonian is the greatest use of your fancy computer skills."

Auggie was ready to push back… and a little more when a voice stopped them.

"See, I told you they'd fight just like we do," Paul Anderson's smug comment caught both men short.

"I bet Uncle Auggie could beat up Dad, he looks pretty buff under that sweater." Pete answered his brother.

"Yeah, but Dad's pretty fast, he'd dance away after he got a few quick shots in," Paul said. "Uncle Butch always said Dad was a sneaky fighter. Oh look, they stopped. Do you think it's because they acted like Adam and Ethan?"

"Nope, Adam and Ethan fight fair."

Hannah stepped in behind the twins, "Boys, downstairs. Your hockey game starts in half an hour and Uncles Butch and Greg are coming to watch tonight so the basement needs to be cleaned up."

"What about Dad and Uncle Auggie?"

"They've got half an hour to clean up their mess too." She checked out the two red-faced adults as the twins headed back to the basement rec room. "The only two Eagle Scouts in the bunch and all you seem to do are pull out your talons when you're together. I think now is the time you started at the beginning and got to know each other. Dr. Thomas Benedict Anderson, I want you to meet Mr. August Dominic Anderson. Now you shake hands." She tapped her foot as she waited for either one of them to raise a hand, "Now! Shake hands."

Auggie was the first, "pleased to meet you, Doctor Anderson. Do you come here often?"

"Every night Mr. Anderson; I used to think of it as my castle." Tom scowled at Hannah. "I might have been mistaken."

"Well, isn't this a nice start," Hannah smiled as she went to start a fresh pot of coffee. "Why don't the two of you have a seat and start a deep, meaningful conversation for a change."

Auggie reached out; searching for the chair he'd lost in his angry reaction to Tom's verbal attack. Tom gently took Auggie's hand and placed it in the back of his recently vacated chair before he sat across from his youngest brother.

"So, how's working at the Smithsonian?"

"There's always something interesting happening. How's it being the number two man in your department at the hospital?"

"Well, I feel like the bend in a toilet, there's shit coming down and shit coming up and I'm stuck in the middle; unnoticed, unappreciated and always fighting the tide."

Auggie pulled up straight, stunned that Tom would actually admit his life wasn't perfect and then he laughed so hard tears ran down his face. It took at least five minutes of gut churning guffaws to realize Tom was laughing with him.

Maybe big brother wasn't such a stuck up idiot after all.

0o0o0

How Hannah managed to put up with the Andersons surprised Auggie. She was everything Tom needed and she could put up with his pompous tendencies as well as his tender feelings. With the unexpected truce between Tom and Auggie Hannah had insisted Auggie stay and bed down on the basement couch instead of head back with Butch, Joanne and their boys. Now the brothers could finally catch up on the past five years.

"You know," Tom smiled as he rose to get another beer for himself and Auggie, "it's hard to imagine you working for the Smithsonian."

Auggie was almost asleep in Tom's old recliner but he was awake enough to be annoyed by that statement. "Yeah, why is that so hard to imagine about that?"

"Well, you never were a history scholar. Yeah, I suppose you could do a lot of things there with computers. Yeah, I bet its all about computers, right?"

"There are a lot of separate museums in the Smithsonian complex and they make up the 'country's attic' so there's a lot of computer work."

Tom touched the back of Auggie's had with the full beer. "You know, I know a few influential people now and I bet I know somebody who knows somebody who can get you a computer job here in Chicago. It'd be nice to have you closer to the rest of the family."

Auggie sighed and rolled the beer bottle between his hands. It was time to pull CIA cover story number four out. So he started the well rehearsed lie. "Tom, I don't work for the Smithsonian. I work at the Pentagon."

Tom's head shot up, "the Pentagon! What do you do at the Pentagon?"

Auggie gave a slight smile, "its classified, Tom."

But now Tom was up and pacing. "You were in Iraq; you were an officer so I bet that's what you do now, Iraq and Afghanistan counter-intelligence, right?"

"Its classified, Tom," Auggie pushed the recliner upright, turned his face toward his brother and again repeated his well used cover story in a scary calm voice. "Tom, what I do is classified for a reason. I can't tell you… ever."

Auggie could almost hear the wheels turning in Tom's head. He hoped he had scared Tom enough to shut him up.

"Don't worry, Tommy, nothing is going to happen to me, I'm safer than Butch or Greg or even you. I like my job and I do it very well. That is why I live in Washington and that is why I don't want Dad checking up on me."

Tom rubbed his hand over his face and slipped back into his seat. "I wish you luck, Auggie. The old man been trying to run everybody's life since Mom died. You just haven't been here to see it. When are you going to face the wrath of Daddy dearest?"

Auggie took a long pull on his beer before he answered, "Tomorrow."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

This may be the end of this story or I may put a little post script to it later. I am sorry I took so long to finish this, but this was a bad winter for me.

Mom has a bit of information for her readers. I suffer from depression as do three of my siblings. I don't expect any "poor thing" responses to this. Depression is an illness and it is about time I admitted I have it. It is treatable and if anyone out there thinks they might have this or any other mental illness try to get the treatment you need. Believe me, its worth the effort.

Thank you to Alice, my trusty beta reader, everyone who has read this story and a special thank you to those who reviewed it too. I make no money from this (darn) and write fanfiction for my pleasure (whoopie!).

**Family Matters **

**Chapter Four**

Albert Anderson stuffed himself into his heavy coat so he could take Whizzer out to do his business.

'_Damn dog, doesn't even have a pedigree. Never wanted a damn dog. Barb wanted a dog for the kids but none of them took him after Barb died. None of them are picking up after him. How long are dogs supposed to live, anyway? Barb, all the boys are gone and all I have is an arthritic, fifteen year old mutt.'_

Anderson bent down slowly to attach the leash to the old dog's collar. With each snap and creak of his own back and knees the Professor realized he was as arthritic as Whizzer.

'_Family dog, but no family to help with Whizzer; sons and grandsons close enough to visit and all the company I have is the dog. It's New Year's Eve and I'm talking to myself… again. I'm not talking out loud, thank God, or the neighbours would decide I'd finally gone insane.'_

Whizzer whimpered at the door and started pulling hard on his leash. Albert Anderson opened the door and was almost bopped in the face by Auggie's door knock.

"August, what are you doing here?"

Auggie's trademark smile wreathed his face. "I was hoping for some coffee and conversation, Happy New Year, Dad."

"Ah, yes… well, Happy New Year, but I have to walk the dog before he bursts."

"Whizzer," Auggie called as he crouched down to scratch the old pet behind the ears. "Is it time for a walk? Yes it is; I can tell by your whines."

"Well, before he ruins the welcome mat he needs to go out. There's coffee brewing. I'll be back soon; you can wait here until I get back."

"Or I can walk with you." Auggie turned to his father.

"Or you can walk with me," Anderson mused and then smiled. "The neighbours might just realize I still have a family."

Auggie kept quiet, it was no use engaging in verbal battle with his PhD. father when he was being sarcastic. So, folding his white cane Auggie waited for the Professor to lock the door.

"My hands are full, son. I don't know where you would grab on."

"That's okay, we'll do it this way," Auggie said as he put his hand on his fathers shoulder. "When did you get so short?"

"When all my sons decided to grow taller than me," Albert Anderson cast his eyes at his youngest. Auggie wasn't his tallest son but he still towered over him by several inches. "Are you ready?"

"Lead on, Dad."

The sound of Whizzer's huffing breaths was louder than the sound of his feet hitting the snowy sidewalk. Auggie could feel his father's proud, straight posture through the grip he had on the Professor's shoulder. Suddenly the picture of his mother and father walking arm in arm with a puppy sized Whizzer exploring the sidewalk in front of them filled his mind. As quickly as the image appeared, it was gone.

"Dad, do the Singh's still live across the street?"

"In a way, Vijay passed away last year, but Baljeet is still there with Samrath and Connie."

Auggie's eyebrows snapped up, "Sam still lives there? He always said he was moving to L.A. and forget Illinois ever existed."

"What can I say; he became a dermatologist, married Connie Farleigh and moved back to the old homestead when his father passed away. It seems some families stick together."

Auggie rolled his eyes. His father was not going to let go of his favourite sour grape. Well, Auggie didn't come here to pick a fight, so he said nothing and continued the frosty walk through the old neighbourhood. If only he didn't have to respond to the 'here, hold on for a minute' command from his father every time Whizzer called nature. It was the one time he could complain that his sense of smell was still top notch.

"We're home," the Professor announced as they turned in at the large, boxy building he called home. "I'll take Whizzer in through the back door, clean the salt off his paws and feed him." He unlocked the front door. "You go in the usual way."

Auggie entered on automatic pilot; in through the door, shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet and then he turned toward the kitchen and became lost. This was not _his_ home; the last time he had been in this room was after his mother's funeral seven years before and then it had been full of friends and family. He shook his head and went back to the closet to retrieve his cane. Since this was not his home he would treat it like any other unfamiliar place. Auggie stood up straight, his left foot went forward, his cane swung right and he headed toward where he remembered the kitchen was.

"There's coffee in the pot," his father called from the boot room.

Auggie shook his head, exasperated. "I'll wait for you, Dad."

Professor Anderson absolutely bustled around the kitchen; he pulled out cups and saucers and poured the cream into the little pitcher that matched the sugar bowl. He wanted everything to be perfect for his prodigal son… well, all his sons were prodigal but August was the farthest away from home.

"Dad," Auggie reached out and, like a heat seeking missile, found his father's arm, "let's have that cup of coffee now."

"But I have cookies."

Auggie smiled, "I don't need cookies, Dad. I do need to talk to you."

Albert sat down.

"Dad, I have to ask you why you want to take care of me when you come to Washington. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

The Professor licked his lips… how was he going to explain what he wanted? "I was hoping that if could spend time together that I might help you. I know a lot of people who would propel you forward in your career. I know the Smithsonian is the attic of the nation, but it can't possibly pay you what you are worth."

"Well, there have been some cut backs but I like my job. Dad, this has been a very informative trip for me. I've talked to Tom, Greg, Butch and Cy and they all say the same thing; you want them to find a better job with a bigger pay check. You must know that being a professor of canon law doesn't pay the best, but it's what you love. We are all doing jobs we love so why the push toward the almighty dollar?"

"I just want my boys to be able to… to… to do the best for themselves."

"We do. Dad, we are all taking care of ourselves and our families. We do pretty well for ourselves." Auggie heard his father pull in his breathe through his teeth so he wrapped his hands round his coffee cup. "Dad, talk to me, I'm a good listener."

"I don't have a fortune to leave for my sons."

Auggie sat up straight, "so, we all earn good livings."

"But my father left Uncle Joseph, Uncle John and me a share of his money and I haven't really added anything to it." This was Albert's chance to make at least one of his sons understand his moral dilemma. "Actually, all I've done is use it. It bought this house. I bought a membership in the country club and I keep an apartment in South Bend. Sometimes it feels so damn wasteful."

Auggie started to chuckle, "yeah, we are all just waiting for you to die and make us thousand-aires." His hand ghosted over the table to his father's arm and Auggie gripped it tight. "The one thing that became apparent to me is that the Andersons need each other and not money. Mom's been gone for seven years and we kind of split apart. If you would just stop trying to run our lives and enjoy what we have would be great."

"I want to sell the house."

"Sell the damn house, Dad. We all have houses now. Go live in South Bend full time. Dad, you have gotta live your own life too." Auggie stopped and took a sip of his coffee and then winked in his father's direction. "Maybe you'd meet a rich widow to fill the family coffers."

"August," the Professor gasped.

"Or maybe you could just enjoy yourself for the rest of your life."

Albert Anderson actually laughed. "You're just like your mother, sarcastic and glib. You do know there are lots of museums closer to Chicago; unless there's another reason to stay in D.C.; a more personal reason."

Auggie put his cup down. "Actually, there is a big reason for me to stay in Washington. Sorry, but it something I've never felt good about telling you. I hope you're ready to hear it now because I got told to take you to Tom's tonight and I don't want to mess this up."

"I'm all ears, August."

"Well, this can't go any further than this room. Think of this like a confessional."

Professor Anderson stood up and smiled, "if it is this important I want to get the cookies before I start. I may need sustenance."

"Yeah, it is cookie worthy," Auggie smiled as he heard his father walk to the cupboard. If he could tell his father what he felt the man needed to hear Auggie had to be ready to tell him everything and maybe a cookie or two would help his secret go down.

Fin


End file.
